Sea of Lonely
by isetfiretopeople
Summary: George feels he can't handle it anymore and walks out of Fred's funeral. Who will be able to save him when he becomes trapped in the Muggle world?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1- Hermione's Point of View.

It was over. Voldemort had lost. He lay crumpled on the ground, Harry stood triumphantly over him. It should have been a time of celebration and many people had realised that. Cheering and patting Harry on the back. I was tempted to join in myself, perhaps even shoot some multicoloured sparks from my wand.

I didn't though. The whole reality of the situation was slowly dawning on me. People had died tonight. Not just Voldemort, but those on our side; fighting for our cause. Remus, Tonks, Colin….

My breath hitched in my throat as Ron squeezed my hand. A strangled, heart-wrenching cry sounded from just behind us.

I had never imagined that such a noise could come from George Weasley. He had thrown himself down on top of his brother, refusing to move as other member of the Weasley family attempted to drag him away.

That did it. The sight of one pf the happiest people I had ever known falling apart in front of me broke down my emotional barrier. Hot, silent tears cascaded down my cheeks. Fred could not be gone. It was impossible. But it had somehow happened; the inseparable had been separated.

Fred's body laid on the ground, a ghost of a laugh still visible on his face. His mirror-image still curled around his unmoving body.

I felt strong arms encircle me and looked up into the tear stained face of Ron. He gave me a small watery smile and lead me out of the Great Hall.

Truthfully, I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. We had won, but so many great people had lost their lives in the process.

The resulting noise that escaped my lips was a mixture of the two causing Ron to give me a concerned look, probably thinking I was on the brink of going insane. I felt like I was.

We both slid down the rough stone wall into a sitting position. If I was feeling like this, I could only imagine how Ron was feeling. He had lost his brother; my family were tucked away safe and sound in Australia somewhere.

I laid my head down on Ron's chest. He gently curled my hair around his fingers, a gesture that was comforting to both of us.

Every time I heard footsteps, I looked up, half expecting it to be one of the fallen soldiers. I prayed that Fred was going to waltz around the corner, laughing "I fooled you! Should have seen the looks on your faces,"

Perhaps, if I went to sleep, I would wake up and this would all have been a terribly twisted and confusing nightmare. With this thought on my mind, I let myself drift off on Ron's arms.

As it happened, when I woke up, it hadn't been a dream.

A week had passed and everyone was trying their best to move on and pick up the pieces after the war. I had been staying at the Burrow, attempting to find the whereabouts of my parents. Hopefully, I could reinstall their memories, but in the mean time, I was welcome to stay at the Weasley residence.

The day before had been the joint funeral of Lupin and Tonks. They had been buried together in a beautiful, yet sad ceremony. Harry had sat bouncing a happily oblivious Teddy on his lap.

The sight had pulled on my heartstrings, thinking of how history had a cruel way of repeating itself.

It was now the day of Fred's funeral. The Burrow was unusually sombre as everyone did their best to get ready.

At one point, as I was going to use the shower, I had found George staring blankly at his reflection in the mirror. His hand was touching the glass as if to reach out to the reflection inside.

It was strange seeing George without his customary smile or the mischievous twinkle in his eye. Then again, it was strange to see George without Fred.

He caught me watching in the reflection and immediately bowed his head. I cautiously approached him,

"Why did it have to be him?" he asked. It was the first time I had heard him speak since the final battle. His voice was croaky from both disuse and the emotion that threatened to spill over any second.

I didn't answer, because truthfully, I didn't have an answer. Instead, I took him in my arms, rubbing his back in an attempt to be reassuring as he let himself fall apart in front of me.

Eventually, George had calmed down enough to allow himself to finish getting ready, reverting back to the same emotionless state that he had been in all week.

The actual funeral was not as I expected. Although I knew it was going to be an upsetting experience, I thought that it would have reflected Fred's personality in some way. I was half expecting brightly coloured streamers, balloons and perhaps even some fireworks, however, none of these made an appearance.

I sat between Ron and George. I laced my fingers between Ron's and gave him what I hoped was a supportive smile. I thought about taking George's hand as well, but when I glanced at him, his head as bowed, eyes scrunched tight as if he was trying to block out his surroundings.

Once everyone was seated, a small man with white fluffy hair stood up on the podium. He opened his mouth to start speaking, when out of my peripheral vision, I saw sudden movement.

George had stood up. He opened his mouth a couple of times and closed it again, swallowing.

"I can't do this," he muttered, loud enough for only those close by to hear him.

With that, he turned on the spot and with a loud crack, he was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: As I forgot to add one in the last chapter, I shall write a short disclaimer here: I do not own Harry Potter or anything associated with Harry Potter. I just like to occasionally play with the characters and make them do my bidding.

This is slightly shorter than what most of the chapters will be. It's also in George's POV, although most of the story will remain in Hermione's. I felt it was necessary to include this.

Chapter 2

George's Point of View.

I know what I did was stupid. I wasn't thinking straight. I needed to get away. I thought if I didn't see it happen, it wouldn't be real. I regret it now. No one knows where I am. I don't even know where I am. I've got no possible means of getting home.

When I left, I apperated to the outskirts of a Muggle city. I'm not sure which, but I remembered seeing it in a picture once with Fred. We'd always wondered what it would be like in a Muggle city that wasn't London. We made plans of all the pranks we could pull and all the silly get rich quick schemes we could try. Of course, none of that mattered any more. He was gone and without him, I only felt like half a person.

I'd wondered for hours, not knowing where I was going. All I had was my wand. My wand and the clothes on my back. Formal dress robes. Great going George. It earned me some funny looks from the Muggles, but at that point I was past caring.

It had started getting dark and I was getting tired when suddenly, a hand caught me by the collar and pulled me into an alley way. It stank of piss and stale booze.

"Give us yer money!" a harsh voice demanded.

As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I could make out two young men roughly the same age as me. They were identical apart from the one on the left had a long scar running across his cheek. The one on the right was holding a shiny metal cylinder, pointing it at me as if it was a weapon.

My breath hitched in my throat, but I managed to stutter "I-I-I haven't got any," whilst fumbling for my wand.

The two men regarded me with a sneer. "Looks like we've found ourselves a freak," the one on the right snarled, surveying my clothes and what he must have thought a normal stick in my hand.

"Search him,"

A stunning spell started to form on my lips but not before I heard a loud bang and felt a searing pain in my shoulder. I stumbled backwards, landing on the damp floor. Feeling at the source of pain, I found a sticky red liquid oozing out at an alarming rate.

My wand was kicked from my hand and I heard a sickening crack somewhere behind me. They had broken it. The last thing I was aware of before succumbing to the darkness that was threatening to engulf me was a rough pair of hands desperately searching me for any valuables.

I awoke some time later, vaguely still aware of the pain in my shoulder. I was in a sterile white environment and wearing the type of gown that Madame Pomfrey had always forced her patients to wear. Without thinking, I called out "Fred?"

There were some hurried footsteps. For a moment, I thought Fred really had heard me. He was still alive and I'd been having an awful dream. I was disappointed when a short blonde woman that was definitely not Fred rounded the corner.

"What happened?" I asked, feeling disappointed that she was not in fact my twin,

"You were shot, love," she replied in a thick Yorkshire accent. "Quite lucky someone found you. You'd lost a lot of blood," she started busying herself with some strange looking contraptions around my bed. Dad would have loved it here,

"Now, ducky," the nurse said "can you tell me your name?"

"George Weasley,"

"Is there anyone that we should call to let them know you're here?"

I shook my head. The one person I really wanted by my side was incapable of being here. How would the Muggles get in touch with my family anyway? I couldn't just blurt out that I was a wizard.

I spent a few days there in that bed. It was clear that the nurses all thought that I was strange. They questioned me about the clothes I had been wearing when I came in. Asked if I'd been to a fancy dress party. They kept asking about my missing ear. I told them it had been cut off in a fight, which wasn't really a lie. When I told them that, their eyes widened and they let out a collective gasp. After that I could tell they were nervous to be around me.

They asked about my family. I didn't tell them anything. I had been unable to answer through the tears that came every time I was reminded of Fred.

Eventually, I was allowed to go. I think they were glad to see the back of me to be honest. I didn't know where I would go, so again, I took to wondering the streets. I tried to find somewhere that looked familiar. Perhaps a train station so I could go to London and then floo home from the Leaky Cauldron, but I was unable to find one.

I'm so stupid. Why did I have to run away? It didn't help. It didn't bring Fred back. So now I'm lost, cold and hungry. No food, no money and no wand. Nice going George.


	3. Chapter 3

AN- Hey guys, thanks to everyone that has reviewed so far, I really appreciate it. I wrote this chapter a while ago but haven't had time to update it as I have been away with no access to the internet. Hope you enjoy it. As always, I don't own the characters however much I wish I do.

Chapter 3- Hermione's point of view.

It had been roughly two months since George had left. The Burrow was still unusually quiet. I was starting to feel like I was trapped in some kind of prison. I felt like I was going insane.

My relationship with Ron way suffering terribly. He and Harry had both started auror training. I, however, was still trying to pinpoint the location of my parents.

I still shared a room with Ginny and Harry still shared with Ron. I think Mrs Weasley wanted to deny that her two youngest children were growing up for as long as she possibly could.

Harry and Ginny were very happy together. Of course, they were sad about the people that they had lost, but as long as they were together, they were smiling. The pair of them had decided to go for a moonlit stroll around the orchard, so I took the opportunity to sneak in to see Ron.

He was sat on the end of his bed wearing only a t-shirt and boxers, staring blankly out of the window. I knew what he was thinking about.

I sat down behind him and snaked my arms around his middle and leant my head on his shoulder.

"He'll turn up," I said, breaking the silence.

Ron snorted, "He's been gone two months, Hermione. He's probably dead in a ditch somewhere," His face was pale and his hand shook as he ran it through his hair.

"Don't think like that," I told him, giving him a squeeze, but he pulled away from my embrace.

"It's hard not to,"

"I know, but you've got to try to think positive about these things," I tried to reason, giving him a peck on the cheek.

"It's easy for you to say, you haven't lost anyone," he said. His ears were starting to turn red; I could tell he was becoming more angry than upset. "I've lost two brothers, Hermione! Fred's dead! George is missing, probably topped himself by now and all you can tell me is that he will turn up! Well, he hasn't has he?"

I sighed. It was impossible to reason with him at times like this. I, myself, was becoming angry. "In case you haven't noticed Ronald," I said eventually, "I have lost people. I can't find my parents. Fred and George were like brothers to me. I know what it feels like," tears were welling up and threatening to spill over.

"No!" Ron snapped. "They were not your brothers. They're mine. You have no idea!"

I sighed again. He was not going to see how much I cared for his family. How much I felt like I had always been a part of it.

"I'm leaving, Ronald" I said finally. "I can't deal with you like this." I turned from the room and made my way to Ginny's bedroom. I was not staying around to be treated like I didn't count, as if my feelings didn't matter. I was going to find my parents. I started throwing my belongings into my trunk.

"Don't go," Ron spoke from the door. I wasn't aware that he had followed me.

"I am going to find my parents," I said as calmly as I could manage.

I bewitched my trunk so it was as light as a feather and started down the stairs. I could hear Ron following close behind me.

"Don't you dare follow me, Ronald Weasley! Perhaps you can owl me when you have learnt to respect my feelings,"

I managed to scrape together enough money to rent a flat on the outskirts of London. It wasn't much. One bedroom, one bathroom and one seating area combined with a small kitchen. The view from the windows was a brick wall and I have found a large patch of damp behind a painting that had been hung in the bathroom. Lovely.

I was getting closer to finding my mum and dad but started putting it off as I started getting nervous. What if I couldn't restore their memories? What if they preferred it where they were, preferred not having a daughter?

After a while, I got a job at the ministry. I had to help interrogate suspected ex-death eaters. My first morning on the job consisted of questioning three people, one of which was sent straight to Azkaban. Another, it was declared had been under the imperious curse. The third person was more convincing, but the evidence against him kept building up and contradicting itself. In the end, he was released and told to come back at a later date.

I took my lunch break in a small park. It was really quite peaceful and for a moment, I almost forgot all of my troubles.

Far too soon, it was time to head back to my tiny office and carry on with my work. I scanned my list for the name of the next suspected death eater. When my eyes rested on the name, I groaned inwardly.

There was a knock on the door. Before I could react, it burst open and over the threshold stepped the last person I wanted to see.

"Granger?" Draco Malfoy asked in astonishment.

Since the war, I had heard that Lucius Malfoy had been sent back to Azkaban for his part in Voldemort's plans. His wife, although not an official death eater had been punished by being placed under house arrest. Nothing however, had been done to punish Draco as his place in the war had always been questionable.

He took the seat opposite me without being asked to sit down. He didn't, however, look as confident as he usually did.

"Frightened, Malfoy?" I asked.

He gave a noncommittal shrug of the shoulders.

"Can we just get on with this?"

He was looking around the room, his eyes darting to anything that wasn't me. No matter how much we had argued in the past or how much we had hated each other, I couldn't help but feel sorry for him. He looked weak and quite pathetic as if he already knew his sentence and had given up trying to prove himself innocent. I tried to find the right words.

"Harry tells me that you lowered your wand that night on the tower?"

Malfoy looked up at me, the surprise evident on his face. He slowly nodded his head. "I didn't want to do it. He threatened to kill mother," he said, wringing his hands.

I took out my quill and wrote down what he had said, shocked at how easily my enemy had opened up to me.


	4. Chapter 4

AN- Thanks once again to everyone for reviewing and adding the story to your favourites and alerts. I get a warm fuzzy feeling every time I get an email and it inspires me to write more.

I sadly still don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters and it looks like I wont any time in the near future. In the mean time I'm going to occasionally borrow them and make them do my bidding.

Chapter Four- Hermione's Point of view.

It was decided in the end that Malfoy was in fact innocent. However, due to his shady background and upbringing, he had to attend several appointments at the ministry to ensure that he was behaving and sticking to the right path.

It surprised me that often during these meetings, he would come and visit me in my office. We still bickered every time we met, shooting insults at each time. Over time, however, they gradually became more playful.

I think he had become lonely as a lot of his former schoolmates were either locked up or under some sort of curfew.

I was on my lunch break when I bumped into him coming out of one of the lifts.

"Granger, I was just coming to see you," he said, running his hand through his hair and giving me his trademark smirk.

"I was just off out for lunch, what do you want?"

"I was wondering if you wanted to go for a drink tonight?"

"What?" I asked, thinking I hadn't heard him correctly. I could feel a blush creeping up my neck. Draco Malfoy asking me out? It's official. The world has finally gone mad.

He must have noticed my flabbergasted look because he smirked and said "I meant just as friends, Granger. Though if you wanted…" he trailed off, still smirking and shot me a wink.

"No. That's not what I want," I said, trying my best to figure out whether or not he was being serious.

"It was a joke, Granger. You're not really my type," I saw a slight pinkish tinge appear on his cheeks.

"I wasn't joking about going as friends though. I thought it might be nice for some of us to have some company,"

I thought about it. I didn't see much of anyone since I had left The Burrow. Harry and Ginny had visited me once or twice and sent a couple of letters but that was about it.

"I think I'd like that,"

I decided to make an effort with my appearance that night. I knew that I wouldn't be able to tame my hair much, so I pulled it into a ponytail and left a couple of ringlets hand down at the front. I put on a knee length dress that showed a little bit of flesh, but not too much. I thought I looked fairly presentable but I didn't want to try too hard and give Malfoy the wrong impression.

He arrived outside my flat at five past eight. Typical of him to be late, but it didn't bother me. To my surprise, when I opened the door, I saw he was dressed in muggle clothing rather than wizard robes.

He smirked at my poorly concealed surprise at him appearance, and like usual invited himself in.

"I thought you could show me a muggle night out," he suggested.

I raised an eyebrow sceptically. "Are you sure you're really Draco Malfoy?" I asking, giving a small smile.

He chuckled. "I'm meant to be reforming, aren't I?" he said.

"Alright then, I'll just grab my jacket" I tucked my wand and purse into my small beaded bag and grabbed a leather jacket from the hook on the back of the door.

We apperated into an alley way beside a number of clubs and pubs in the middle of the city.

"We'll start in here," I told him, dragging him into a small pub on the corner named The Rusty Horseshoe. I noticed him wrinkle his nose, but he passed no comment. I supposed her was trying to be polite.

Malfoy was right to be slightly disgusted; it was not the cleanest of places. The stench of stale ale filled the air and our feet stuck to the floor. Obviously drinks had been spilled and had not been mopped up.

"Perhaps we should try somewhere else," I suggested. Malfoy nodded and wasted no time in leaving the pub.

Eventually we found a little pub down the street that was less offensive to our noses and settled in there. I ordered myself and Malfoy a drink each and paid as Malfoy watched apprehensively over my shoulder.

We sat in a corner away from everyone else to begin with. Malfoy eyed the pint of larger that I had bought him suspiciously before taking a small sip. It seemed to meet his approval as he didn't complain or pull any faces.

To begin with, conversation was sparse. I couldn't think of much to say to my former enemy and I was guessing he felt the same. It wasn't all that bad though; the silence between us was comfortable.

After a few drinks, we moved on to another pub. Outside this one was a blackboard that advertised that it was karaoke night. Malfoy wrinkled his brow as he read the sign.

"Do you know any muggle songs?" I asked him, smiling.

"Not really," he replied.

"You don't know what you're missing out on," I pulled him inside and plonked him down at a table as I ordered more drinks.

As I returned back to the table, I smiled to myself as I had a sudden image of Malfoy singing 'It's raining men' by The Weather Girls on the karaoke though I doubted I'd ever manage to get him up there. Perhaps when he'd had a few more drinks.

The night passed pleasantly. We got more than a little tipsy and by closing time, we were both leaning on each other for support.

"Thanks for a fun night," I said to him as we stumbled down the street.

"I'll see you back home safely," he said.

"Oh, my night in shining armour," I joked.

"Well, it's thanks to you that I'm not in Azkaban right now,"

We lapsed into silence as we continued down the street and towards the alley way where we would be apperating back to my flat.

As we got closer to the corner, we saw a hunched figure sat on the pavement, head in its hands. I dug in my purse to see if I had any spare change to offer the homeless man, but I has spent up.

I carried on walking past him, but Malfoy stopped in his tracks.

"What's up Malfoy?" I asked. His eyes were trained on the man sat on the pavement and his mouth hung open.

"Is that one of the Weasleys?" he asked me in a whisper.

For the first time, my eyes focussed properly on the man in front of us. From the faint light cast by a nearby streetlamp, I could make out vivid red hair poking through the fingers that clutched his head and a few faint freckles on his hands. As absurd as it was, my first though was Fred, but I knew it couldn't be.

"George, is that you?" I said finally.

The man sat on the floor lifted his head. "Hermione?"


End file.
